Sawtooth Spire wrong side of the tracks

Tonravik appeared in the mouth of the den. He watched through the thick shrubbery, concealed within  their bushiness as he held his breath and waited for her to grow disinterested. Stillness settled over him as she lifted her voice, calling for him before she turned to face the interior of the den. Well shit. Now he had a choice to make. Did he play it off as knowing nothing of the sort, or did he fess up to his ploy..?

He eased himself very slowly out of the bushes, careful not to rustle more branches than absolutely necessary as he inched his way free of their clutches. Staying low to the ground, he belly crawled down a quick hill towards the stream where Tonravik had been quenching her thirst and covered his mouth with the freshness of water. He barked then, replying to her call as he gave up his guise of quietness and made his way back towards the den.

Iqniq approached, water dripping from his maw as his ears lifted; a question in his expression. What is it?